


Berlin

by merlenhiver



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: (not exactly SSC) BDSM, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlenhiver/pseuds/merlenhiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin has a job on the side that no one knows about. When things go south one night, can a certain Sky God fix what’s broken?</p>
<p>(aka hooker!fic with loads of hurt/comfort)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Berlin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JayEz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEz/gifts).



> ... and betaed by [JayEz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEz/pseuds/JayEz). Thank you, darling!
> 
> This work hasn't been betaed by a native speaker (yet), so if you would kindly point out any mistakes or maybe volunteer to beta or even Britpick this story, I'd be forever in your debt. ;)  
>    
>  **Please take note of the warnings in the tags.**

 

It was almost dusk when they landed in Berlin-Schönefeld.

Carolyn took off immediately to talk to the airfield manager while Arthur hoovered the cabin and cleaned the toilet of the remains of this flight’s bachelor party. Douglas had actually lost their last word game of the day, so it was he for once who shut GERTI down while Martin gathered his flight bag and stepped outside.

Snow had begun to fall and was coating the tarmac with a thin layer of white. Martin hunched his shoulders against the cold, careful not to slip on the sleek ground, his thoughts on the evening ahead.

They had a day layover in Berlin, which meant that Martin had been able to take on a client for the night. Said client had already paid in advance – one of the perks of him having finally joined an agency willing to insist on proper procedure – and would be waiting for him at the _Regent_ , an upper-class hotel in the city centre. Since Carolyn had booked them a hotel at Alexanderplatz (nowhere near as nice as the _Regent_ , judging from their website), Martin would be able to get there by tube in under thirty minutes. Small favours.

His only problem would be thinking up a convincing excuse for Douglas. MJN’s expense budget being as tight as it was, Martin was once again sharing a room with his First Officer, and Douglas was nothing if not nosy when it came to Martin’s private affairs. He couldn’t well claim another headache after their trips to Madrid and Oslo last week.

It was easier when they weren’t sharing a room. At least then he could slip in and out unnoticed with none of them being any the wiser.

Their hotel turned out to be not as bad as Martin had feared. The lobby was cozy and clean, their room sparsely furnished, but at least it was bigger than the average closet.  When they arrived, Douglas immediately changed into a pair of jeans and a dark sweater vest that somehow made him look even more suave than his uniform.

“Fancy hitting the local pubs, Martin?” Douglas asked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I could do with a bit of recreation and sampling the local _cuisine_ , if you catch my drift.”

Martin couldn’t help but smile. Ever since Douglas’ divorce had been finalised, he had been desperate for distractions, once even going so far as to drag Martin along to an evening of karaoke in one of the local pubs.

“I’m pretty beat, actually. I think I’ll just go for a walk and turn in early.”

There seemed to be a fleeting look of disappointment on Douglas’ face, but before Martin could be sure of what he saw, it was gone again.

“Fair enough,” Douglas said. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Martin nodded distractedly, in his head already listing the things he would need for the night. Lube, condoms, wallet, phone, key card…

“Good night, then,” Douglas said. “Have fun on your walk. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winked and shut the door behind him.

Martin was alone.

At last.

With swift movements, he changed out of his uniform and into the smart suit he had brought – the only one he owned, but the investment had already paid off. It was elegant and sophisticated, and Martin always felt an inch taller when he put it on. He slipped condoms and lube into his trouser pockets, took his wallet out of his flight bag and checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The gaze that met him wasn’t his own anymore. He was Marvin tonight, high-class escort, here to serve.

A man who had just lied through his teeth to one of the only friends he had.

Martin turned away from the mirror before he could get a better look at the disgust on his face.

*~*~*

The _Regent_ was a bulky, imposing building in a busy side street just off Gendarmenmarkt. Martin steeled himself before entering the lobby, heading for the reception to ask after his client.

He couldn’t help but gape at the lavish interior. Leather armchairs grouped around ornamental tables, thick carpets, and glittering candelabras gave the room an air of old-fashioned luxury. He let his gaze sweep over the lounging businessmen in their pressed suits, reading their international newspapers, until it landed on a blond, rather handsome man in his sixties who raised his hand in greeting and beckoned him over.

“You must be Marvin,” the man said, rising as Martin approached his table.

“Yes, I am, sir. Good evening, sir.”

They shook hands. Martin couldn’t help but wince at the bone-crushing grip.

“Please. Call me Helmut.” He indicated the chair to his right.

As Martin sat down he felt Helmut’s gaze travel over his body, taking in his curly hair, his scrawny figure, the swell of his buttocks. It still unnerved Martin, this kind of blatant sexual interest his clients showed in him. He wasn’t used to being an object of desire.

“Would you like a drink before we get started?” Helmut asked, pointing at the wine menu. His accent was nowhere near as thick as Martin had expected. He must be travelling a lot.

“Your agency sent ahead some paperwork,” Helmut went on once Martin had declined the drink. “Detailing the general conditions for our encounter. I take it there aren’t any clauses you wish to add?”

Martin shook his head. A lawyer, probably. Obsessed with rules and regulations. _Just like Sir_ , Douglas would undoubtedly say. The thought made Martin smile.

“Good.” Helmut leaned back and steepled his fingers. His eyes were a brilliant blue and Martin shifted a little under their scrutiny. “Then let’s not waste any more time, shall we?”

*~*~*

Helmut’s room was on the third floor and it was just as posh as the lobby downstairs. Painted in cream colours with a matching carpet and drapes and furnished with an antique writing desk, an enormous king-size bed, and a comfy-looking armchair in the corner. There was a picture on the wall above the bed, some kind of ancient palace Martin didn’t recognise.

“Strip.”

Martin started at the sudden command. He realised he had been lost in thought and quickly slipped out of his suit jacket and shoes. Helmut, meanwhile, ambled over to the armchair and sat down, his legs spread wide, his shirt already undone.

Martin hated this part – the part where he wasn’t yet sure what the client expected of him. He had never been particularly good at reading people (as Douglas so often reminded him) and he couldn’t help but feel unsure how to act. Should he put on a show for Helmut? Or should he just get naked as quickly and as efficiently as possible?

He chose the latter on instinct and was met with another one of Helmut’s scrutinisinggazes and an affirming nod.

“Come over here. On your knees.” Helmut indicated the space in front of him.

Martin swallowed. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint why, but he had a nagging feeling that this client would be different than the ones he was used to. He certainly knew what he wanted and made his intentions clear. 

Shrugging off his apprehension, Martin walked over to the armchair and settled himself between Helmut’s legs. Helmut’s erection was already straining against his trousers, so Martin wasted no time in opening them and taking out the half-hard cock.

“Slowly. I want to last,” Helmut said, a hand grabbing for Martin’s hair as soon as Martin had started licking the head.

Fortunately, blow-jobs were something Martin was proud to say he was quite good at. He had never met a male client who didn’t like his cock sucked, and after the first couple of times Martin had successfully conquered his gag reflex. For now, he chose to drag his tongue lavishly along the shaft, circle the already leaking head, lap at the balls. Helmut’s groans filled the otherwise quiet room.

“Suck it,” he rasped after a few minutes, his cock already glistening with Martin’s saliva.

Martin wasted no time and took him in as far as he could, applying first a little bit of suction, then gradually more. Helmut’s groans become louder, and he began to thrust erratically into Martin’s mouth. Martin took this as his cue to swallow him down, relaxing his throat muscles as well as he could to take the whole length in. It took less than a dozen thrusts and Helmut was spilling down Martin’s throat.

Martin leaned back when Helmut released the death grip on his hair and let the softening cock slip out of his mouth. He wiped his lips surreptitiously to rid himself of the residual come.

Helmut was breathing heavily, his eyes closed. After a few moments, he opened them and stared at Martin unblinkingly.

“That was good. Very good.”

Martin couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips at the praise.

“But I believe I told you that I wanted you to _go_ _slow_. That I wanted to _last_.”

Martin’s heart sank at the coldness in Helmut’s voice. Had he misread the signs? Helmut had told him to suck, hadn’t he? Didn’t that mean –

“Well, let’s see if you can’t make it up to me. Lie down on the bed, on your back.”

Martin scrambled to his feet and climbed onto the huge mattress. The sheets were warm and soft underneath his skin. While he got ready, Helmut rummaged in his suitcase and came back with a bundle of ropes. Martin stared at them for a minute, his mind not processing.

“What?” Helmut asked, frowning. “Your contract says bondage is not one of your hard limits.”

Martin cleared his throat. “It’s not.” His heart was pounding. Somehow the thought of being tied down by Helmut, to be at this man’s mercy, made his stomach clench with dread.

But he had never had a problem with being bound before, had he? Well, there was that one time with the ball gag that had been rather awkward, but other than that, he had been fine, had even enjoyed himself at times. Why should this be any different?

Helmut climbed onto the bed next to Martin’s head and began to expertly tie his wrists together, then secured them to one of the bedposts. He had clearly done this before; Martin found he couldn’t move his hands an inch once Helmut was done, and the rope was cutting into his skin rather uncomfortably.

“That should do it,” Helmut said. He got rid of his shirt and pulled off his trousers, folding them over the desk chair. “Since you deprived me of the opportunity to fuck you myself right now, I’m going to have to use something else to start with.”

Martin had a bad feeling about what he was getting at and it only got worse when Helmut opened his suitcase once more and took out a dildo – one of the largest dildos Martin had ever set eyes on. It was made entirely of glass and steeply tapered with several ridges along the length, each one wider than the last. Was Helmut seriously considering shoving _that_ up his arse?

“I… I haven’t prepared myself yet,” he stammered, panicking suddenly that Helmut might not stop to use any lube.

Helmut sighed. “Oh my. What a negligent little slut you are. But no worries, I wouldn’t expect you to take this beauty here dry. Bit of a tall order, even for an eager little cocksucker like you.”

Martin felt his cheeks redden at the taunt. He had never cared much for dirty talk, and the way Helmut spoke to him made him feel diminished and ashamed rather than aroused. His clients in the past had always treated Martin with respect, even though they were paying for him. That was why he was using an agency in the first place, because the chance of attracting the wrong type of customer was minimal. He wasn’t prepared for this kind of scorn.

Helmut had conjured up a bottle of lube from somewhere and was coating the dildo with slick. Now that Helmut was naked too, Martin could see that he looked remarkably fit for his age: tall and toned and muscular. No doubt he worked out a lot.

When Helmut was finished he stepped up to the end of the bed and looked down at Martin, brandishing the now glistening dildo like a weapon.

“Legs up,” he commanded. When Martin didn’t comply immediately, Helmut took one of his ankles, pushed them up to drape over his own shoulder and elbowed the other leg out of his way to make room. He now had perfect access to Martin’s exposed hole.

Martin closed his eyes to calm himself. He had to _relax_ , dammit, this was no different than anything else he had ever done. No need to make a fuss. So his client was the controlling type who liked his lovers to be submissive. He could do that. He could be whatever the client wanted. He was mouldable. Wasn’t he?

Without warning, the tip of the dildo breached him and Martin hissed in pain. Helmut raised a questioning eyebrow.

“It’s cold,” Martin said, not meeting his eyes.

Helmut grinned and twisted the dildo, making Martin squirm. “It’ll heat up soon enough.”

He pushed the dildo further into Martin, not pausing, not halting, until the first three ridges were fully immersed. Martin gasped at the uncomfortable stretch, trying to force his body to relax around the intrusive object, but found that he couldn’t. The burn was too great, the entry had been too quick, his body wanted nothing more than to expel the unwieldy toy.

Helmut, of course, was having none of it. It was as if he wasn’t even aware that Martin was uncomfortable. After a few moments rest he pushed the dildo further into Martin, who couldn’t help but cry out in pain.

“It’s too, it’s too much,” he gasped. “Please…slower, please.”

“Oh come on, Marvin, we’ve only just started,” Helmut said. To Martin’s relief, he stilled his hand, allowing Martin to catch his breath. “You are going to have fun in a moment, just wait and see.”

And with that, he pushed the dildo deeper once more. Martin could feel tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes and cursed himself for not being able to wipe them away. A twinge had already started in his arms from the uncomfortable position they were tied in, but it was nothing compared to the ever-growing stretch of his hole and sphincter.

Then the dildo hit his prostate and Martin’s whole body jerked in response. Despite the flaring pain he was in, his cock twitched and started to fill.

“That’s it. You see? I told you you’d enjoy this,” Helmut crooned. He twisted the dildo again, massaging Martin’s prostate until his cock was almost fully hard. Then he shoved in deeper.

The next minutes were a confusing mix of agony and pleasure as Helmut worked the dildo all the way into Martin’s body. While his pucker was stretched so tightly around the dildo’s ever-widening girth that Martin was sure something would tear at any moment, his cock clearly loved the attention his prostate was receiving and bumped and leaked onto his stomach to the rhythm of Helmut’s thrusts. Martin ached to touch himself but could do nothing but hold on and take whatever Helmut had in store for him.

After an excruciatingly long time, Helmut pulled the dildo all the way out of Martin’s body. Martin could feel himself soften immediately now that the pressure on his prostate was gone and he was able to feel the burning inside of him for all that it was. A moan escaped him and he curled in on himself as much as he was able to.

He had never expected to feel like this: defiled, played with, and discarded like the dildo Helmut had used on him. He didn’t know what made Helmut so different from his other clients, but he seemed to tap right into the pit of self-loathing that always simmered just beneath his skin and drag it all out into the open. 

But of course he couldn’t leave. Not just because there were ropes tying his hands to the bed, but because he had already been paid for tonight, the whole night, and he _needed_ the money. He needed it to live, and to keep on flying.

So when Helmut emerged from his suitcase next holding a cane, Martin clenched his teeth and told himself he had to see this through till the end.

*~*~*

Hours later, Martin pushed open the door to their shared hotel room as quietly as possible, hoping against hope that Douglas would be fast asleep. Every movement hurt as he made his way through the darkened room. All he wanted was a hot shower and to collapse on his bed, forget about this night and become Captain Martin Crieff again, air pilot, commander of a slightly antique but still-flying Lockheed McDonnell 312.

He had almost made it to the bathroom when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone stirring under the covers.                                   

“Martin?”

A light went on. Martin shut his eyes against the brightness. When he opened them again it was to see Douglas propped up on his elbows, his hair sleep-tousled, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s four o’clock in the morning. Where have you been?”

“Out,” Martin said dismissively and opened the bathroom door. “Sorry for waking you.”

He slipped into the tiny bathroom, but before he was able to close the door, Douglas had somehow materialisedbehind him. How he had gotten out of bed this quickly in his sleep-addled state, Martin had no idea.

“Are you all right?”

Martin shrugged. “Of course. Why?”

“Well, to put it mildly, you look like shit. _Captain_.”

“Look, Douglas, I’m tired. I’m just going to have a quick shower. Please go back to bed, okay?”

Douglas’ eyes narrowed. Martin squirmed under their scrutiny.

“What happened to your lip?”

“What?”

“It’s been bleeding.”

Martin frowned. He hadn’t even realisedhe had bitten himself. He touched the spot Douglas was indicating and hissed at the sting.

“Told you. Now, if Sir would be so inclined as to sit down and let me take a look, maybe get some ice out of the minibar, we could all get some sleep tonight.”

Martin could tell that he was fighting a losing battle. Once Douglas had sunk his teeth into something, he didn’t let it go.

“Fine.” Without thinking Martin sat down on the toilet seat – and almost cried out in pain. It was all he could do to stifle the sound, but of course Douglas had seen his wince and was next to him in a second.

“Martin, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Martin shook his head, clenching his teeth against the pain. He had to get Douglas out of here. He couldn’t cope with his concern, his worried face, his caring voice…not now, when all he wanted to do was to curl in on himself and bawl like a baby until it all went away.

He couldn’t afford to break down like this. Not in front of _Douglas_ , of all people.

So he took a deep breath and sat up. Tears were threatening to leak out of his eyes, but he fought them back rigorously.

Douglas was staring at him, a deep frown on his face.

“Have you been mugged?”

Martin shook his head again, then cursed himself for not jumping at the chance for an excuse. His brain wasn’t working properly, it felt like it was filled with clouds, white and woolly and distracting.

“Martin, I don’t like this. You look like you’re in shock. Let me check you over.”

“No!” Martin raised his hands to ward the other man off. “I’m fine, Douglas, I just need a shower, I don’t need –”

He broke off when Douglas gasped and took hold of one of his wrists. “What in the name of –”

Martin could only look on as Douglas pulled back the sleeve of his shirt to reveal the ugly red marks underneath.

“These look like…like _rope burns_ , Martin. What –”

“I met someone, okay?” Martin burst out, snatching back his hand and cradling it to his chest. “We had a few drinks, I went home with him, and we had a bit of fun. Are you satisfied now? Will you leave me alone?”

Martin hadn’t dared to look at Douglas during his little speech. He knew he was one of the world’s worst liars, probably second only to Arthur, and Douglas was bound to see through his ruse sooner rather than later.

There was a silence while Douglas considered him. Then he cleared his throat.

“These marks…they don’t look consensual to me, Martin. Where else are you hurt?”

To Martin’s horror, his shoulders started shaking. It was like his body had suddenly developed a mind of its own; tears began to spill down his cheeks and his breath became hitched. He was quickly losing all self-control.

“Please,” he tried again, a last-ditch effort that was somehow marred by the fact that his voice had gone all choked. “Just…just leave me alone. I’m fine…I’ll be fine.”

Douglas shook his head. “I can’t do that, Martin.” He laid an arm around Martin’s shoulders, and Martin felt the last of his resolve slip away.

He was dimly aware that he was sobbing into Douglas’ pyjamas, wracked by heaving sobs that seemed to emanate from the very core of his being. Douglas drew small circles onto his back and whispered a soothing mantra in his ear.

“I’ve got you, Martin, you’re all right, I’ve got you now, shush now, everything’s going to be fine…”

Martin didn’t know how long he sat there, sobbing his soul out and letting Douglas rock him softly.

The tears finally stopped. He was able to draw a deep breath again and calm his still-shaking limbs.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, Douglas, I’m so sorry –”

“Don’t mention it.”

Martin sniffled and wiped a hand over his face to dry the rest of his tears. “I’ve ruined your pyjamas.”

“They weren’t my favourites anyway.”

Martin could feel Douglas’ eyes on him while he kept staring at the wet patch he had left on his shoulder. He felt completely empty, adrift, without bearing or anchor.

“Why don’t you have that shower,” Douglas said softly. “I’ll go out and see if I can’t find an open pharmacy to get something for your wrists.”

Martin nodded and rose from the toilet seat. Douglas, who had been kneeling on the bathroom floor in an awkward position, stood up as well, and winced as he straightened his back.

“I’m getting too old for this. Good thing I didn’t overexert myself earlier.”

“What, the local cuisine not to your taste?” Martin found himself joking.

“Nah. Too much effort. The whole place is swarming with well-to-dos trying to outsmart one another. Well, it’s their loss. At least I got to practice my German.”

He went to the bedroom. Martin could hear the rustle of cloth and a few minutes later, Douglas emerged wearing the jeans and sweater vest from the evening before as well as his jacket and scarf. He hovered in the doorframe as though searching for something.

“You sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?” he finally asked.

Martin shook his head, shoulders hunched up to his ears. “It’s not that bad.”

Douglas considered him for a moment, his eyes dark with concern.

“Very well. I’ll be back in a bit.” He gave a tiny wave and left.

Martin let out the breath he had been holding. Dammit, this was awkward. Of all the people to lose control to, he had to do so in front of _Douglas_. Douglas, who would probably never let him hear the end of it, despite his caring demeanour just now. How was he ever going to fly alongside the man again knowing that Douglas had seen him like _this_?

At least he seemed to be buying into his one-night-stand story. That was a relief. It was enough that Martin had made a fool of himself, better not let on how much of a colossal idiot he had been to take this job in the first place.

As quickly as possible, Martin shed his clothes. His arms were still sore from being bound and his backside hurt with every move he made, but what was most important right now was to get the filth off his skin. Helmut had used a condom when he fucked him, thank God, but his own come was still sticking to his stomach, and he didn’t need a reminder that a part of his body had actually enjoyed tonight’s activities.

He turned the shower on as hot as it would go, hissing when the scalding water hit his abused backside. There were red swollen welts all over his buttocks and thighs from where Helmut had hit him with the cane. Martin couldn’t see all of the damage, but from what he glimpsed he got a good idea. He’d be sore for days. Flying would be a nightmare.

There was no blood in the water running down the drain, so Martin guessed this meant there wasn’t any tearing. His insides still felt raw and chafed though, a constant reminder of what Helmut had put him through.

Before he could get lost in unpleasant memories, Martin turned off the shower, dried himself off, and slipped under the covers of his bed. The thought of putting on his pyjamas over the welts made his stomach clench, so he only draped a sheet over himself and lay down on his stomach.

He must have fallen asleep for he started awake at the sound of someone opening the door. For a few agonising seconds, Martin didn’t know where he was or who the intruder might be, but then the ceiling light was turned on and he recognised Douglas walking over to his bed, a plastic bag with the red letter _A_ in his hand.

“I got you bandages and some antiseptic cream. We’ll need to clean the wounds first. Hold on, I’ll go get a towel out of the bathroom.”

Martin rubbed his eyes and sat up gingerly. The welts on his backside seemed to burn even worse than before and he couldn’t find a position he was comfortable in. After a few adjustments, he opted to lie on his side, propped up on one elbow.

Douglas was walking back into the room with a wet towel and sat down on Martin’s bedside.

“Give me your hand.”

Martin held it out for him, clutching the sheet to his chest with his other hand. He hissed when Douglas started dabbing at his wrist.

“Sorry. I’ll make it quick.”

“It’s okay, I’m just…thank you for doing this, Douglas.”

Douglas chuckled. “Are you serious? This is an unmissable opportunity to put my semesters of medicine to good use.”

“I thought all you did at uni was partying and drinking.”

“Don’t forget the consummation of illegal substances. Ah well. The good old days.”

Martin smiled. He watched Douglas from beneath his lashes while the other man rummaged in the bag for the antiseptic cream.

He didn’t like admitting it to himself, but he had been hoping for a situation as intimate as this one to share with his First Officer. Underneath all the sarcasm and swagger, Douglas emanated a steadiness and calm that worked like a soothing balm for Martin’s constantly frazzled nerves. Martin had found out long ago that he couldn’t escape the lure of Douglas’ particular charm, but he would never have dared to make any sort of pass at him. The danger of being ridiculed was too great.

“Let’s have a look at that lip, shall we?” Douglas, oblivious to Martin’s musings, said when he had finished bandaging Martin’s wrists. He leaned forward to dab at the cut with the towel. “Why don’t I – oi! What’s this?”

“What?”

“There’s some kind of wound on your shoulder. It looks like –”

Douglas broke off, staring at something Martin couldn’t see.

But he remembered. He remembered Helmut pounding into him, moaning obscenely as he neared completion, his hands digging into Martin’s hips. At one point, Martin had felt a sharp sting on his left shoulder as Helmut’s teeth bit into his flesh. Helmut came right after that, shuddering through his orgasm, pumping into Martin until he was completely spent, and collapsing on top of him. Martin remembered feeling suffocated, buried under the weight of the taller man, needing to _breathe_ –

“Martin? Martin, are you alright?”

He started as if from a daze. “Wha – what?”

“For a moment there I thought you were going to pass out on me.”

“I’m… I’m alright.” The shaking in his hands was back. Martin clenched the sheet tighter in order to hide it.

“Martin, I swear to you, if you say that one more time –”

“What do you want me to say?” Martin yelled, put on the defensive. “That I like it rough? That I enjoy it when my lovers are beating me up? What do you want to hear, Douglas?”

Douglas stared at him for a moment. “Well, the truth would be a good start.”

Martin swallowed. As always, Douglas didn’t buy into any of his feeble excuses. Martin had nowhere to hide when it came to him.

“Where else are you hurt?” Douglas asked.

Martin shook his head, mumbling something inaudible.

“Martin.” There was such a desperate note to Douglas’ voice that it made Martin cringe. He closed his eyes and heaved a deep breath. Then he lifted the sheet.

There was a silence while Douglas’ eyes trailed over his thighs and buttocks, no doubt taking in every mark Helmut had left on his body. Douglas stretched out a tentative hand and traced it over Martin’s hips. There were finger-shaped bruises that Martin hadn’t even noticed before.

“Martin, you’ve got to report this,” Douglas finally said, anger bleeding into his voice. “This is madness!”

“I wasn’t forced,” Martin said. “I went into it willingly.”

“Did you stay willingly, too?”

Martin flinched. He didn’t want to mull over the fact that he would probably have left at one point had he not been tied down. It made him feel nauseated, like dropping into a well of darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

Douglas seemed to be able to guess the answer. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. Martin wanted nothing more than to wipe that worried look off his face.

_The truth_ , Douglas had said.

“He paid me.”

“What?”

“He paid me. He was a…a client.”

“A – client.”

Martin nodded.

“I take it he wasn’t the type of client who needed a piano moved.”

Martin’s lip trembled. “No.”

There was a pause. Douglas’ jaw was clenched so tightly that Martin could hear his teeth grind.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Five months. Since my van didn’t make the MOT.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to, I don’t know, _ask someone for help_? I could have loaned you money.”

“Douglas.” Martin sighed and shook his head. “You’ve got three ex-wives and a daughter to support. I’m not going to take your money.”

“You could have gotten another job.”

“Not with the hours I keep at MJN.” He shifted on the bed to put some weight off his backside. “It seemed like the perfect solution. The pay is good, I can take on clients whenever we have a layover, and I actually get to have some time off in-between flights.”

“Yes, _perfect_. Only in your world, Martin.” Douglas rubbed a weary hand over his face. “What went wrong tonight?”

Martin dropped his eyes. “The client… He got a bit rougher than the ones I’m used to.”

“Oh, I gathered that much. But you must have some sort of arrangement for stuff like this, a safe word, a contract, _anything_ , where you set down what you’re prepared to do and what not?”

Martin felt himself blushing. “I didn’t… I didn’t set any limits.”

“Excuse me?”

“When I… When I made the contract with my agency I was afraid… I was afraid that no one would book me if I said I wasn’t willing to do…certain things. I mean, look at me, I’m not exactly model material. In the beginning, I thought I’d be lucky if anyone booked me at all, so…so I didn’t really specify any limits.”

“Oh Martin, you _idiot_!”

“I know, I know, I’m –” He swallowed, shame colouring his cheeks.

Douglas heaved a deep sigh. “So now that you’ve had your brush with the dark side of the business, can I at least assume that you’ll stop this insanity?”

“I won’t take on any more clients that are into bondage, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Martin, you can’t go on like this. Don’t you see? This job is killing you! Just look at yourself!”

Martin snorted. “Come on, Douglas, it’s not _that_ bad. It’s a few cuts and bruises, I’ll be fine in a week or two –”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Douglas jumped off the bed, gesticulating wildly. “This is the most self-destructive thing I’ve ever seen you do, and I’ve watched you do an enormous amount of tremendously stupid shit over the last three years! It has to stop, _now_!”

Martin could feel anger rising inside him. “Don’t tell me what to do! You have no right –”

“I have _every_ right! I care about you Martin, even if you don’t, even if you obviously can’t conceive of a _single_ person loving you enough to –” Douglas broke off, the colour draining from his face.

Martin stared at him, unable to believe his ears. “You…what? You l-”

Douglas swore and turned his back on Martin, then walked the length of the room to the door. For a moment, Martin thought he was going to leave, but he just stood there, breathing hard.

Martin could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Did he really just hear what he thought he heard?

“Douglas –”

“Just…forget what I just said.” Douglas’ voice was so faint Martin could barely hear it. “I never meant… I didn’t mean to tell you.”

Martin’s breath caught and he sat up, regardless of his injuries. “Tell me what?”

Douglas heaved a deep sigh and raised his head to the ceiling.

“You mean you…you really do l- ?”

“I don’t need to hear it again!”

Martin swallowed, gathering up his courage. “Well, maybe _I_ do. Because I thought I heard you say you _loved_ me, and that just can’t be, that would be too –”

With another sigh, Douglas turned around and met his eyes.

It was as if a veil was suddenly lifted and for the first time Martin could actually see what he should have been able to see a long time ago. Or maybe not that long. He had no idea when Douglas’ feelings for him had changed, but it was all there now, laid bare in his look: the love, the affection, and something that came suspiciously close to adoration.

That was all for _him_?

Martin didn’t know how to react. There was no manual for this, no regulations to follow. For the first time in his life, his feelings for another person were reciprocated, and he was too overwhelmed to know what to do with it.

Douglas’ shoulders sagged. He turned back to face the door.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I hope I haven’t ruined our friendship.”

“What?” Martin’s mind wasn’t processing.

“It just…slipped out. I never meant to let you know.”

Martin’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. “Why not?”

Douglas snorted. “Come on, Martin, what good would it have done? I’m not exactly boyfriend material, even if you were inclined to walk on the gay side, which I’m not remotely sure about. You deserve someone…a lot better than me.”

“ _Better_?” Martin gaped at Douglas’ back, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. He stood up, wincing as he did so, and took a few tentative steps towards the other man. “What do you mean?”

“Martin,” Douglas said, voice tinged with exasperation. “I’m a 56-year-old washed-up airline pilot with three failed marriages under my belt. I’m not getting any younger. What could I possibly have to offer to someone like you?”

Martin was still trying to reconcile the boasting, confident Douglas he was used to with the hunched figure standing in front of him. Martin had known for a long time that there was more to Douglas Richardson than he let on, but this…this level of self-doubt? That was usually reserved for Martin himself.

He cleared his throat. “Well, for one thing, you’re a better pilot than me.”

Another self-derisive snort. Douglas still hadn’t turned around.

“You are witty, charming, intelligent, you always know what to say and what to do and how to get us out of sticky situations… And quite frankly, you are…without a doubt…the most amazing man I’ve ever known.”

Douglas’ body had gone rigid at his last words; it seemed that Martin was finally getting through to him. Tentatively, he reached out and placed a hand on Douglas’ shoulder. Martin could feel Douglas shudder under his touch and took a step closer.

Douglas’ shoulder was warm and solid under his hand. Martin longed to trace his fingers along his arm, and after a moment of indecision allowed himself to do it. Douglas drew in a sharp breath and finally, finally turned around.

His eyes searched Martin’s as if looking for confirmation. Apparently he found what he had been hoping for, for the next thing Martin knew he was swept up in a strong embrace, one of Douglas’ hands cradling his jaw.

“I had no idea,” Douglas said, sounding awe-struck and looking at him as though he had found some long-lost treasure.

Martin didn’t know who closed the distance between them. He only knew that when Douglas’ lips met his, he felt a surge of… _something_ so strong in his gut that he made a grab for Douglas’ hair, pulling him closer, his tongue all but begging for entrance.

He could feel Douglas chuckle against him but didn’t meet any resistance. Douglas welcomed him in and proceeded to plunder his mouth with the force of an impending gale.

That of course was the moment when Martin was sharply reminded of the cut on his lip.

He hissed and pulled back. “Oh, for the love of – _damn_!” When he dabbed at the sting, his fingers came back red.

Douglas blinked at him, his eyes bright. He was still looking at Martin as though he was the most precious thing he had ever beheld.

Martin sighed. “I’m sorry, Douglas. We might need to postpone this.”

“That’s alright. We’ll have plenty of time for all of that, once you’re in better shape. Out of the two of us though, I never thought I’d be the fit one.”

Martin shoved him playfully, then rested his forehead against Douglas’ chest. He felt like drowning himself in the other man’s scent, strong and musky and beguiling.

Douglas pressed a kiss to his hair. “Why don’t we take this to bed?”

Martin nodded. “Will you sleep with me?” He blushed when he realised what he had just said. “I mean – not in the way that… I wasn’t suggesting–”

“Martin.” Douglas kissed the corner of his mouth, careful not to touch the still-stinging cut. “Yes, I will sleep with you. Chastely and only after I’ve taken care of your backside, but we will share a bed tonight. I’m not letting you go, now that I’ve finally got you where I want you.”

As Martin nuzzled against Douglas’ chest half an hour later, his backside still throbbing but on the mend, Martin found that he was more than okay with that.

 


End file.
